


Dead. Dead. DEAD.

by crochetaway



Series: Drabbles and OneShots [164]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Murder, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27267673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: A killer stylizing themselves as the Harbinger of Death is stalking the wizarding world. Draco and the rest of the Hit Wizards work to identify the killer before more victims are murdered.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Drabbles and OneShots [164]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/627092
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36
Collections: Harry Potter ABCs of Death: A Halloween Fest





	Dead. Dead. DEAD.

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: Written for the Harry Potter ABC's of Death Fest hosted by artemesia! Thanks so much for hosting this fest, it was so fun to write for!**
> 
> **My letter was H and my word was Harbinger!**
> 
> **Many thanks to the talented Fae Orabel for beta'ing this and for helping with the ending. Also thanks to brownlark42 for giving it a final read-through.**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway.**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

* * *

It is the suicide of her girlfriend that breaks her. She finds the body, of course. It was them against the world and had been since Hogwarts. Since their terrible sixth year when her best friend in the whole school had been cruelly cursed. The curse never healed, never went away. Driving her friend into a deep depression. The depression that ended up taking her life years after they admitted to each other they were more than just friends. And now she is dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD.

The two of them clung to one another, especially after their families cast them out. It doesn’t seem fair that her best friend—her lover—is dead when _they_ are gracing the cover of the _Daily Prophet_ once again. The bloody _Golden Trio_ is anything but golden in her mind. They are hateful, insidious, especially the Granger bitch. It is time for the rest of the wizarding world to see the Golden Trio for what they really are. And it’s her duty as a witch wronged by them too many times to count to do it.

Nobody attends the service of her girlfriend's death except her. That alone is the final ingredient in the cauldron. She is going to do something about those bloody ‘heroes.’ They wouldn’t be so heroic lying dead in the street. She has nothing left to live for except her vengeance, and it will be so sweet when it finally comes.

* * *

_9 October 2010_

“Merlin, we’ve got a body down in Diagon Alley!”

Draco looked up sharply at the shout that rang through the Auror and Hit Wizard bullpen. It wasn’t quite chaos that ensued, but only because they had all been trained so well. Either from the war itself—most of the Aurors and Hit Wizards in his generation—or they were veterans of two wars and Alastor Moody’s training methods.

“What did he say?”

“Did he say ‘a body?’”

“In Diagon Alley?”

Whispers and demands rose up from every corner of the office. Draco sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. The last thing his department needed was a body in a location like Diagon Alley. He strode toward the front of the office to speak with the Auror who had come bursting in—some kid a few years behind Draco at Hogwarts. He could never remember his name. David something or other he thought.

“What kind of body?” Draco asked. “Any chance it’s natural or accidental?”

“Definitely not,” the Auror shook his head. “Throat was slit from ear to ear.”

“Fuck,” Draco muttered. “Alright, I’m assuming you’ve dispatched Aurors to the scene to keep the public away?”

“Of course,” the Auror looked offended. Draco wished he could remember his name. Dickard maybe?

“Right,” Draco clapped him on the shoulder. “Potter! McLaggen!” he called out for his top Hit Wizards.

“Um, don’t you want to know who the body is?” Dillan—maybe?—asked. Least he thought that’s what his name was.

“You’ve got an ID already?” Why hadn’t the bloody man led with that? He had no idea how in the hell half these Aurors had even passed the exams to get into the academy, let alone get hired afterward.

“It’s just that, she’s pretty well known.”

“Fucking Salazar,” Draco muttered. Not only a body in Diagon Alley but a well-known body. The press was going to be all over this. All over his department. What a nightmare. “Who is it?” he snapped.

“Hannah Abbott, she owns the Leaky Cauldron, sir.”

Draco’s brows furrowed as he took in the information. Who in the world would want Hannah Abbott dead? She was one of the kindest witches he had ever met, and her mince pies were out of this world. “Merlin, this is bad,” Potter said from behind him.

“Get the forensics team out there,” Draco snapped. “McLaggen, you’re on crowd control. And someone call Granger from the press office. We’re going to need all the help we can get with the bloody _Prophet_.”

Potter and McLaggen peeled off to do as they were told, and Draco found himself hurrying toward the Floo’s so he could get a look at the crime scene. Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity? Or a drunken brawl?

The lead feeling in his belly told him otherwise. This was worse than bad. This was the start of something.

* * *

_10 October 2010_

“Tarot cards?” Granger asked later over dinner. They weren’t really seeing each other, but they weren’t really not seeing each other either. It was a relationship that Draco didn’t have a name for, but he found himself eating dinner with Granger more often than not. And it wasn’t only because they both had a tendency to stay late at the Ministry. Case in point, right now, they were at his flat.

“Two of them,” Draco confirmed. “The ten of swords and the tower.”

Granger grimaced, stirring her pad thai in thought. “Neither of those are very good cards. I didn’t go very far in Divination, but I do recall that.”

Draco barked a short, bitter laugh. “They’re bloody awful cards. And together?” He shook his head. “It’s a mark. A calling card.”

“Like something a serial killer from a crime drama would do,” Granger mused. “Do you think whoever it is is Muggle-born then?”

“Could be. Could be half-blood. Could be a pure-blood who’s dated a Muggle-born or half-blood. We don’t know. The tarot cards were one of the only clues.”

“One of?” Granger asked, raising her eyebrow.

It was Draco’s turn to grimace. “It’s like something out of a noir detective novel. The word ‘harbinger’ was written next to the body in a bloody scrawl.”

“That’s… graphic,” Granger said, making a face and pushing the rest of her pad thai away from her. She drummed her fingers on the counter. “So, like Harbinger of Death, paired with the tarot cards.”

“That’s what we’re assuming,” Draco nodded, taking a swallow of his butterbeer.

“But why Hannah though? Surely, she didn’t have any enemies.”

“‘Course not, she was the huffliest of Hufflepuffs,” Draco grunted. “No enemies and this was clearly no barroom brawl. She was targeted.”

“This is going to be bloody impossible to solve,” Granger said with a groan.

“If it’s a serial killer, they’ll strike again,” Draco said grimly. “Whoever it is knew enough not to use magic, so there’s no trace of any magic at the scene except for Hannah’s as she tried to defend herself. Until we have more answers—”

“More bodies you mean,” Granger said with a scowl.

Draco nodded but didn’t verbally agree with her. “Until there’s a pattern established, there’s no way for us to figure it out. We’ve combed the area, we’ve set up a tip Floo. We’re doing everything we can.”

“I know,” Granger replied. She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. “I know you are. I just don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” he agreed. And he didn’t. Something about this felt off. He just wished he knew what it was.

* * *

One isn’t enough. One won’t ever be enough. She has more work to do. Loads more work to do. This is just the beginning. Just a taste of what she can do. Of what she will do. Soon they will all be dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD.

* * *

_13 October 2010_

“Macmillan? Are you sure?” Draco asked the head in his Floo. It was a little after three in the morning, and he’d awoken to the sound of his Floo chiming over and over again.

“Yes sir, a positive ID came through the moment Hit Wizard Potter was on the scene,” replied the Auror, whose name Draco still couldn’t remember. Damon, perhaps.

“Alright, where at?”

“Corner of Knockturn Alley and Horizont Alley. They think he was on his way home from the pub,” Damien said.

“Right, thanks. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” He closed the connection and got to his feet with a heavy sigh. At least it was too early for the press to be out. And late enough that it wouldn’t be in the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Now, what did Macmillan have in common with Abbott? Other than them both being Hufflepuffs?

He shook his head. Maybe the killer made a mistake this time and they would find more at the crime scene. Draco dressed in a hurry and left his flat with a sharp crack of Apparition.

When he arrived at the Apparition point in Horizont Alley, he was disappointed to see Rita Skeeter hovering outside of the Auror cordon. He had hoped that the late hour would be a deterrent to the _Prophet_ and the press, but it appeared that wasn’t the case.

“Hit Wizard Malfoy!” she shouted as he approached. He waved a hand at her but kept walking. He flashed his wand at the magical cordon and was let through. Diego hurried up to give him a full run down and he shivered as he passed through the wards.

Abbott’s death had been ugly, but Macmillan’s was a blood-bath. Draco grimaced and flicked an air-freshening charm at his face to cover the metallic-iron scent of blood that permeated the area. Whoever it was, was angry; very, very angry. The slashing that Macmillan took made him almost unidentifiable. He was a little surprised that Potter had been able to ID him so quickly.

“From his magical signature,” Potter said, sidling up alongside Draco. “I recognized it from our DA days.”

“DA?” Draco asked, not recognizing the acronym.

Potter reddened and coughed. “Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Ah,” Draco nodded, having a faint recollection of their fifth year and the little rebellion group Potter had run. “Any additional leads?”

“No. Same calling card though, two tarot cards, the—”

“Ten of swords and the tower?” Draco guessed. Potter nodded.

“Hard to tell, but we think ‘harbinger’ is written here,” Potter pointed to a smear near the head of the body. Draco crouched down to get a better look. He could make out the ‘har’, but the rest of the word was too smudged to see.”

“What’s the link?” Draco asked.

“DA? Hufflepuff’s? Graduating class of 1998? It’s all too vague to really be able to tell,” Potter said.

“Former Death Eater, maybe?” McLaggen asked as he freed himself from the forensics team.

“Who, though? I’m the only marked Death Eater not in Azkaban,” Draco said, running a hand through his hair and standing up.

“Someone not marked then,” Potter suggested. “A snatcher? They weren’t all caught were they?”

Draco shook his head. He was intimately familiar with the snatchers, and he was positive they had all been caught. “Have any been released yet?”

Potter and McLaggen looked at each other and shrugged. “I don’t really keep on top of Azkaban releases,” Potter admitted.

“Have Doug check on that,” Draco said, confident he had gotten that Auror’s name right.

“Doug? Who the bloody hell is Doug?” McLaggen asked, looking bewildered. Potter snorted.

“You know, Doug. Sandy-haired kid. A few years behind Potter and I in school. Gryffindor, I think.”

“Dennis,” Potter said. “You mean Dennis Creevey.”

“Right, him,” Draco nodded. Potter snorted again and went off to do his bidding. Draco ignored him and turned back to the body. Unless there was a witness this time, they had nothing more than they had after Abbott.

* * *

_13 October 2010_

“I don’t like this,” Granger said much later that evening. They were in her flat this time, eating fish and chips from the chippie around the corner. The best in London, or so Granger claimed. “There are simultaneously too many things connecting them and yet not enough. Is whoever it is going after Hufflepuffs? War heroes? People Harry went to school with?”

Draco grimaced. “I don’t bloody know. Nobody does. I had Derek check if any snatchers had been released, but they’re all still locked up. Whoever it is, it’s not someone from the Dark Lord’s side of the war.”

“Who’s Derek?” Hermione asked.

“You know, Creevey. Derek Creevey,” Draco replied, waving a piece of fish in the air as he spoke.

“Dennis, you mean?” Granger asked, shaking her head. “You really do need to learn the names of the Aurors. I know you aren’t technically their boss, but still. It’s unprofessional.”

“Salazar, Dennis, that’s right,” Draco slapped the counter. “I can’t ever remember his name for some reason.”

Granger rolled his eyes and grabbed one of his chips. She had already eaten all of hers. “So nothing else? Just the tarot cards? Was ‘harbinger’ written at the crime scene again?”

Draco nodded. “Sort of. It had definitely been written, but it was smudged. Not sure if that was intentional, done by the killer, by a bystander? It’s hard to tell.”

Granger sipped her butterbeer. “And no magical signature either.”

“Only Macmillan’s,” Draco confirmed. “It looks like he fought hard. May have hurt the killer in some way.”

“Which probably only means a slight reprieve,” Granger frowned. “This is going to get worse before it gets better, isn’t it?”

“Unless we catch a very big break…” Draco trailed off, unable to continue the sentence. Granger shuddered.

* * *

She thinks she has it beat. That nobody else will have to die. Not like her girlfriend died, but that voice. That voice in her head demands that she kill again. That she sacrifices more lives to honor her lover, her best friend who is dead and won’t ever be coming back. She is dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD.

Soon, they will all be dead.

* * *

_21 October 2010_

Draco sighed. He was tired, pulling double-shifts, despite knowing that unless they caught a break in the Harbinger of Death case, he wasn’t going to solve anything. There were no clues. He’d even had Muggle forensics being run, fingerprints and DNA and the like, and still nothing. Whoever the killer was, they were good—really good. He drummed his fingers on his desk as he read through the file for Macmillan once more. The biggest clue there was the smudged writing of ‘harbinger.’

Why had it been smudged?

They hadn’t come across any witnesses and judging by the attention that the _Daily Prophet_ was giving these cases, if there had been witnesses, surely they would have come forward. Although, perhaps not. Perhaps they wouldn’t want to draw attention to themselves and could Draco really blame them? Nobody knew how the killer was picking their victims. He yawned, running a hand across the stubble on his chin, and closed his eyes for a moment. It was late, and the Ministry was practically empty. He should go home and get some sleep, but he had a feeling that if he stayed if he kept looking over Macmillan and Abbott’s files he would find something. He _had_ to find something.

“Is Malfoy still here?” he heard someone say after the department doors banged open. A sinking feeling in his stomach told him all he needed to know.

He stood and shrugged on his cloak. “Where’s the body?”

“Bodies,” Daryl said, clarifying. He shook his sandy hair. “They’re in Hogsmeade this time.”

“Bodies? How many?” Draco swallowed hard. The killer was escalating. This was getting more and more dangerous and the pressure from the press and the Minister was mounting.

“Two. Susan Bones and Lee Jordan. They were dating,” Daniel explained. His voice cracked and Draco clapped him on the shoulder.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the shift off,” Draco suggested. “It’s been a long couple of weeks.”

Dustin nodded his thanks as Draco flicked his wand, sending a Patronus to Potter and McLaggen as he headed towards the Floo’s. It looked like he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep again.

* * *

_22 October 2010_

“Susan?” Granger asked as tears filled her eyes. “And Lee?” She dropped her head into her hands, and Draco awkwardly rubbed her back. He was sure Potter would have told her, but apparently, she hadn’t heard yet. Although he realized as he looked at his watch, it was only ten in the morning.

He strode over to her office door and requested tea from her secretary, before shutting the door firmly and pulling Granger into his arms. She had quickly become the only person he wanted to talk to when this case became too much for him. He wished there was someone else who could take it over. Someone who hadn’t gone to school with all of the victims, but the Hit Wizards and Auror Corps were filled with witches and wizards his age. After the war, there had been quite a purge, and few remained that were much older than him and Potter.

“Merlin, Granger, I’m sorry,” Draco murmured into her hair. There was a knock at the door and Draco flicked his wand, opening it to reveal her secretary with a tea service. The older woman set it on the desk and nodded to Draco before closing the door softly behind her.

“I assumed Potter had told you already,” he said. Hermione shook her head into his chest, and though her tears were quieting, he still held her close. He had to admit, he was finding comfort in the embrace. Something about Granger eased a tightness in him.

“I’m sorry,” Granger said. “You must think I’m a mess.”

“For crying because your friends were murdered?” Draco scoffed. “Of course not, Granger. Here, sit, let’s have tea.”

He played mother and poured tea for them both, fixing hers with her squeeze of lemon and drop of honey.

“Thanks, Draco,” she murmured into the cup, taking her first sip. “No clues?”

“Nothing new,” Draco said with a sigh. “The same two tarot cards and ‘harbinger’ written at the scene.”

“Any idea if the killer meant to get them both? Or if one was the target and the other was in the way?”

Draco shook his head. “It’s not clear. Jordan is the first Gryffindor though, so if it’s Hufflepuff’s they are after, then Jordan got in the way.”

“But both were in the DA, though only Susan was in our year. So we can’t rule out Hufflepuff’s, or people in our year as a connection yet.”

“No we can’t,” Draco said, feeling slightly ill. The longer this went on, the worse it was going to get. “We need to figure out the connection though. Things are already getting bad, and they’ll only get worse if more bodies show up.”

“Susan was the last of the Boneses,” Hermione said quietly.

“I know.” Draco swallowed hard, hoping that the forensics team would find something, _anything_.

* * *

She needs to end this. She needs to be done doing this. It isn’t helping. Nothing is helping, but this definitely isn’t. Someone will catch on. Sooner or later, she will be caught, and she has to decide if she is going to be caught, will it be dead or alive?

 _But there is still work to be done_ , that part of her brain, that convinces her this is a good idea, to begin with, whispers. _There are more who caused you pain. Who caused_ her _pain. You must make them pay._

Yes, she nods. Yes, she must make them pay. A few more. A few more kills and she can be done. She can put the knife down for good.

Maybe she will retire somewhere sunny. She’d like that. Her girlfriend would have liked that, too.

That brings the rage back to the forefront of her mind. Her girlfriend isn’t ever going to get to see another sunset or sunrise. She is dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD. Just like all the people she has killed. There are more to go after. More to kill. And she will. She will kill them all so that they are dead like her girlfriend. Dead. Dead. DEAD.

* * *

_24 October 2010_

Draco found himself becoming obsessive over this case. It was everything he did, pushing away the rest of his cases onto his team so he could focus on this one. There was no way, after four bodies, that the killer hadn’t left some clue—some minute piece of evidence—behind. He combed through evidence bags, and case reports, looking for something—anything—that would help him find the killer.

“Here,” Granger said, disturbing him as she sat a bag of take out on his desk. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“Haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Draco admitted, pushing away the case file and leaning back in his chair, stretching out the tight muscles along his spine.

“You have to take care of yourself,” Granger said. She opened the bag and began taking out containers. Chinese, from what Draco could smell.

“You too,” Draco said, noting the dark circles under Hermione’s eyes.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” she admitted. “I just keep going over it again and again in my head. Trying to figure out who it could possibly be.”

“We’re going to have to start rounding people up and interrogating them,” Draco said with a sigh. “The public will demand nothing less.”

“Even if they aren’t suspects?”

Draco shrugged. “At this point, everyone is a suspect. We have no leads, no ideas, nothing. We have to do something, try to shake something loose. We’ve already spoken with everyone in Azkaban who was involved in the last war. They are all as clueless as we are.”

“Nobody is this good.” Granger shook her head as she passed the container of lo mein to him. “They had to have made a mistake, somewhere.”

“I keep thinking that, too,” Draco said. “It’s why I keep reading the case file over and over again. There has to be a mistake somewhere, but nothing.” He shook his head, digging into the savory dish. Lo mein was his favorite. Granger knew all of his favorites, it seemed.

They had just finished up eating when Dane burst into the department once more. Draco sighed, already standing and shrugging on his cloak as Dorian weaved through the desks to make his way toward him.

“Where?” Draco asked before Deacon could say anything.

“Muggle London,” Dexter said with a grimace. “We’ve got our guys on it, but we’ll need to move quickly to keep the Muggle coppers from the scene.”

“Who?” Granger asked.

“Ginny Weasley.”

* * *

_24 October 2010_

It was getting too close, Draco had to pull Potter from the case. Granger held him back as he tried to storm through the Floo and out of the Ministry. Potter and Weasley had broken up a year prior, but still. Draco also wouldn’t want to have to investigate the death of his ex-girlfriend either. And he wouldn’t make Potter, no matter how much Potter wanted to.

The scene was brutal. Weasley had fought harder than anyone else and Draco was sure that this time the killer had made a mistake. Weasley had been on her guard, her wand was still clutched tightly in her hand, even as her blood was pooling on the pavement.

‘Harbinger’ was written in her blood above her body. Two tarot cards laying carefully on her chest, her eyes staring, unseeing at the cloudless sky above. It was almost too nice of a day to be dealing with a dead body. The thought was unwelcome and Draco grimaced, trying to concentrate on the crime scene.

“Any eye-witnesses?” Draco asked McLaggen.

“We’ve rounded up a couple of Muggles, but we’re not hopeful.” McLaggen looked through the notebook he held. “Three of them it looks like. Initial questioning was not productive.”

“In what way?” Draco asked. He could see the three Muggles, each speaking with a different Auror.

“None of them can agree on what they saw,” McLaggen said.

“You didn’t separate them?” Draco asked sharply.

McLaggen sighed, glaring at Draco. “Of course, we did, but their stories don’t match. Doris McMichael says she saw an old man slash at Weasley. Gavin Feederlin says it was a young woman of Asian descent, though his words were far less politically correct. And Terrence Newcombe swears it was two men in business suits.”

“A glamor,” Draco said.

“A very sophisticated one if it can show different people different things.”

“Fuck.”

* * *

_24 October 2010_

Later that night, Draco returned home to find Granger already in his flat. He was glad he’d stopped to pick up some dinner because she looked absolutely shattered.

“Here,” he set the bag of take out down on the coffee table in front of her. “You dish us out, I’ll grab drinks.”

She nodded dully and began rifling through the bag. Draco breathed a small sigh of relief. For a moment there, she had looked absolutely catatonic.

She handed him a curry and fork as he set two bottles of butterbeer down.

“Anything?” she asked.

Draco’s lips tightened. Weasley and Granger had been friends. Not just old school chums. He really shouldn’t be discussing the case with her.

“No,” he admitted.

“We can rule out Hufflepuffs. And people in Harry’s year,” Granger said dully as she took a bite of rice.

“Weasley was in the DA, right?” Draco asked. Granger nodded. “So it could all be people in the DA then. How exactly did it come about? The DA?”

Granger cracked a small smile and told Draco a story of meeting at the Hog’s Head one Hogsmeade weekend.

“And who was all in it?” Draco asked. “You don’t still have the attendance sheet, do you?”

“Actually,” Granger furrowed her brow, “I might still have it among my school things.”

“Really? Maybe that would offer up a clue. If it really is the DA that’s connecting all of this.”

“What else could it be?” Granger asked.

Draco shrugged. “I’m not sure, it’s as good an idea as any, but who really knows what goes on in a killer’s mind?”

* * *

_25 October 2010_

The list Granger provided was helpful in identifying who needed protection. If they could track them all down. Not everyone had stayed in wizarding Britain after the war. The Patil’s had moved to Canada and Justin Finch-Fletchley was in France the last Draco heard. Hopefully, that meant they were out of striking distance of the killer. They didn’t really have the resources to be sending Aurors to other countries. He would have to notify their local Ministries and hope for the best. The last thing they needed was a panic, but judging by the headlines of the _Daily Prophet_ , a panic was just beginning.

_**HARBINGER OF DEATH STRIKES AGAIN!** _

The headline screamed at him. He frowned at the picture of Ginny Weasley in her Quidditch kit for the Harpies. She looked happy as she grinned and waved at the camera. He wondered who chose that particular picture for the paper to display. He couldn’t help but think that it was garish, though he was only one of the few people to see the crime scene, so perhaps that’s why he found it so unsettling.

“Malfoy,” Potter’s voice was hoarse as he stood in Draco’s cubicle, his eyes red-rimmed. “You have to let me do something to help.”

“I don’t have to let you do anything,” Draco snapped. He had told Potter to go home twice already.

“Please,” Potter practically begged.

Draco sighed. He knew that Potter was taking this hard, but he couldn’t risk him being involved in the investigation anymore. “You’re too close to it. The most I can let you do is come up with some security details for other DA members. You are not to be on any of them,” Draco said sternly.

“A-Alright, yeah, I can do that,” Potter said, bobbing his head. Draco shot him a hard look and handed over a current Auror roster.

“Run it by me before assignments,” Draco told him. Potter nodded and sat back down in his cubicle across the aisle from Draco’s.

He went back to pondering how the _Daily Prophet_ knew about the word ‘harbinger’. It’s possible it was a coincidence, but Draco didn’t like it either way. The Ministry was like a leaky ship, so he shouldn’t be too surprised, but it was upsetting to think that one of his Hit Wizards or Aurors was the cause of the leak. They better not have been, he thought glumly.

* * *

 _Finally!_ Finally! She has her. The Granger bitch is within her sights. The others are just warm-ups, distractions until she can get to the main event. She would have liked to get all three of the _Golden Trio_ , but Granger is the ring-leader. Granger is enough.

People think it is Potter who is the ring-leader, but she isn’t stupid. She knows who is behind it all. She knows the brains of the group. The brains are always in charge. Always. Or if they aren’t in charge, they aren’t the brains, are they?

She laughs to herself as Granger looks over her shoulder, but doesn't see her. Nobody ever sees her. She is a dab hand with glamors. It is one of the only ways she can get work these days, by glamoring herself.

Soon, so soon, she won’t have to do that. She can leave wizarding Britain altogether. She can leave it all behind.

But first, she has to get Granger. Granger needs to be dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD. Just like her girlfriend. Then she will be happy again. Then she can begin her life somewhere new. Just as soon as Granger is dead.

* * *

_31 October 2010_

Later, Draco wouldn’t understand what exactly had compelled him to stop work early and head to Granger’s flat. All he knew for sure, was that he was damned glad he did.

He stopped at the curry shop down the way to pick up dinner. Granger had only left the Ministry an hour ago, stopping by his desk as she did. But he’d had a prickling at the back of his neck. A feeling like something wasn’t right and in all the years he’d spent as a Hit Wizard, he knew to listen to those feelings.

So he picked up dinner and went to Granger’s flat to talk with her about it. Just as he did every other aspect of this case, and most of his other ones, too.

The moment he arrived at the front door of her building, something felt off. Like someone had put up a ward to keep people away. But that was ridiculous. Granger lived in a Muggle building. It was early enough in the evening that there were loads of people out and about still. He couldn’t risk pulling his wand to figure out what exactly it was, he just had to push through.

His bad feeling increased.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he sprinted to the fourth floor. Another ward he had to fight through. This one wanted him to turn away, and the magic buzzed angrily against his skin as he pushed his way through it.

Granger’s door was at the end of the corridor, it was locked, and a simple unlocking spell wasn’t working. So he did the next best thing.

“Reducto,” he whispered, blowing the door to bits.

Someone inside the flat screamed, and Draco darted through the doorway, wand drawn to see Granger on the couch, no wand in sight, and a woman whose face kept changing standing before her.

“Drop the wand,” Draco told the other woman.

“Malfoy?” she gaped at him. But he didn’t recognize her through the malfunctioning glamor.

“I said drop the wand!” Draco shouted, coming closer. She still had her wand pointed on Hermione, ignoring the threat of Draco’s wand pointed at her. Though her focus was only on Draco.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her posh voice slipping into a Scottish brogue.

“Drop the wand. Don’t make me tell you again.” He made a move to step closer, but the woman turned her focus back to Granger.

“After Granger’s dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD. Then I’ll drop the wand,” she said. “I have the cards right here.” She patted her pocket. “But Granger has to die first. She’s the last.”

“I can’t let that happen,” Draco replied. He wished he could see through the glamor, he wished he knew who it was. “Drop the wand and we can end this, right now.”

“Do you think you’re faster than I am?” she had turned back toward Granger, tilting her head to one side as she contemplated the witch on the couch. “Do you think you’ll be able to curse me before I kill her? Shall we find out?”

She turned back to Draco with a sharp grin. Even through the glamor, he could see how excited she was about the possibility of racing him.

“We’re not going to do that,” Draco said calmly. “You’re caught already, don’t make this worse for yourself than it already will be. Just put the wand down and everything will be alright.”

The woman laughed; tossed her head back and laughed. At that moment, Granger sprang from the couch and tackled her, startling both the woman and Draco. The wand went flying, and Draco Summoned it to his hand. Then he watched as the two women fought on the floor. They rolled, bumping into furniture as they went. When the other woman got the upper hand, Draco took his shot and cast the Incarcerous spell at her. Her arms and legs snapped to her body as ropes wrapped around her. She would have fallen on top of Granger if Draco hadn’t levitated her to the side. He stunned her for good measure.

“Alright?” he asked, helping Granger up from the floor.

“Yes, I think so. Any idea who it is?” she asked as she brushed dust from her clothes.

“None,” Draco replied, pulling her into a hug. “Merlin, I was so scared.”

She buried her face in his chest and he held her close for a few minutes, just reveling in the feel of her against his body. For a few minutes there, he was terrified that he was going to lose her.

“I’m really, really glad you decided to show up tonight,” she murmured, tilting her head back to look up at him.

“Me too.” He watched as she bit the corner of her bottom lip. He should step back, put them back on normal footing, but all he really wanted to do then was kiss her. So he did.

Her lips were unbelievably soft beneath his. Her hands wound around his neck and she pulled him close. He took that as tacit permission to deepen the kiss, which he did. She mewled and he swallowed it, but as good as it was, he brought the kiss to a close. He leaned his forehead against hers.

“That’s been a long time coming,” she said, her mouth quirking up at one corner.

Draco huffed a laugh. “It has, but we have a few things to tidy up before we can talk more about it.”

“Right,” Granger sighed and took a step back, turning toward the woman who was lying on her sitting room floor. The stunner ended the glamor.

“Is that…”

“Cho Chang,” Hermione said. “What on earth could have happened to her to make her do all of this?”

“We’ll find out in interrogation,” Draco assured her. He dug an arrest Portkey out of his pocket and placed a kiss on Granger’s forehead. “I’ll be back when I can.”

“Take your time, the wards will be open to you,” Granger told him, giving his arm a squeeze. “Though, I’m not waiting on you to eat.”

He chuckled and dropped the Portkey on Chang’s chest, with a flick it was activated and she disappeared. He gave Granger a nod before turning to his left and Disapparating away.

* * *

_1 November 2010_

“Draco?” Granger’s voice was sleepy as he slipped into the bed next to her.

“It’s me,” he said, pulling her close, her back to his chest. She was warm with sleep and smelled like she’d had a shower before bed. He had never smelled anything as enticing as a freshly-showered Granger.

“Did you find out why?” she asked, the last half of the sentence coming out in a yawn.

“I’m not even sure how to explain this,” Draco said. Still feeling confused by the events of the last few hours.

“Try.” Granger rolled over in his arms, looking less sleepy than she sounded.

“Marietta Edgecombe killed herself at the end of September. Apparently, she and Chang had been seeing each other. It caused some sort of break in Chang’s mind, and she was determined to enact revenge. And we found another body.”

“What?” Granger sat up, leaning against the headboard, a frown marring her face.

“Remember how I could never get Creevey’s name right? Apparently, that can be a symptom of a prodigious use of glamor charms. Chang was using Polyjuice to become Creevey to be close to the case.”

“Oh Godric, how long has Dennis been gone?” Granger lifted a hand to her face to cover her mouth in horror.

“Over a month, just before the first body was found,” Draco replied hoarsely. It was hard for him to know how easy it was to penetrate the Ministry, particularly the Auror Corps.

“It was me, wasn’t it?” Granger said. “Did I cause this? Was this all my fault with that stupid curse on Marietta?”

“Of course not,” Draco told her, pulling her tight for a moment. “We’re all responsible for our own actions. Chang is responsible for killing all those people, not you.”

“But it was my curse. It never healed because Marietta was never sorry for it. That’s all she had to be. The moment she decided that what she had done was a bad thing and felt sorry about it, the curse would have lifted. I tried to tell her, but she didn’t want to listen to me.”

“It’s alright, Granger,” he whispered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. She shook her head though, crying harder, and Draco just held her. What else could he say? At the end of the day, six people were dead, seven if Edgecombe was included in that count. There was no neat tying of the bow to this story. Granger was going to grieve for her friends and her past actions, always wondering if what she had done as a schoolgirl was the cause of so much death and destruction years later. All Draco could do was hold her. Be there for her. Love her.

And he did.

**_~Fin~_ **


End file.
